Three Lessons
by UchiHime
Summary: After the death of his mother during the final battle, Draco learns three important life lessons. DMHP pairing, but Blaise is a key character. Rated for implied sexual themes.
1. Who to Blame

**UchiSays: **Hello, welcome to Three Lessons (formerly titled Where Fault Lies) Part One of Four. I'm really not sure what to say about this story, it's one of my more serious pieces and I can only hope that you like it. While Blaise Zabini is a major character in this story, the actual pairing his Draco/Harry, Just a little heads up so you won't be surprised later.

**UchiBegs:** Please read and review.

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**Three Lessons**

**Lesson One: Who to Blame **_(I Love You, And...)_They had buried his mother at dawn. Draco could remember when he was little how Mother had always said that she wanted to be buried either at dusk or during a rain storm. The former because while it was commonly considered the ending a day, dusk was also the beginning of a night. She liked the concept of being laid to rest at a time that both began and ended something, though she refused to even consider being buried at dawn. The logic behind being buried during a rain storm was because rain washed away all sins and left behind purity. Rain could both help and destroy. And rain would hide the tears on her loved ones face so she wouldn't have to see them in pain.

When he was younger and listened to his mother sprouting out such things; he'd thought her insane, and only partly because he'd deluded himself into believing his mother would live forever. But when the time came, they had gone against her wishes and buried her at dawn.

Not many people had attended the funeral. The Malfoys weren't a very popular family despite their role in ending the war and ensuring victory for the Light. Draco didn't care. His mother had always said she didn't want a big funeral. Only the important people needed to attend. Draco, of course, was there. His father wasn't though. Pansy Parkinson had came with her mother. Potter was there as well as a handful of Weasleys. And, for some unknown reason, Blaise Zabini had thought to attend. Draco wondered if it was obligation that had made the leaders of the Light come; Narcissa had put herself at risk to help them reach their goals after all, or perhaps they genuinely wished to be there... definitely the former. His father would have come, but certain dickheads at the Ministry wouldn't let him off house arrest even to attend his own wife's funeral.

Draco stood amidst the small gathering and watched as a Wizard who hadn't even known her delivered his mother's eulogy. Swallowing thickly, Draco realized his mother would at least get one of her wishes: she wouldn't have to see her loved ones cry, because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't summon tears to his eyes. He just stood there staring at the burial plot in front of him: saying nothing, doing nothing, just standing, staring, and wondering why he hadn't fought harder for them to bury her at dusk. Even as he heard the other people departing; he just stood there.

"Malfoy," a voice said from behind him. Draco turned and saw Potter standing there looking at him. His green eyes were filled with sorrow and pity; Draco hated that look. "Malfoy, I'm sorry for your loss," the Hero of the Wizarding World said. "Narcissa saved my life out in the forest. I owed her a Life Debt."

"The entire world owes _you_ a Life Debt, Potter," Draco said back in a somewhat harsh tone. "What does one debt you owe matter?"

"It matters a lot to me, but this isn't the place for this discussion. I just wanted to give you my condolences."

Draco breathed deeply and fixed his gaze on an invisible point near Potter's feet. "Thanks."

"Harry," a voice called from off to the side. The Weasleys were waiting to leave. Harry gave a halfhearted goodbye to Draco and rushed off the join the red heads. They didn't stick around much longer after that, opting instead to apparate away at their earliest convenience.

"Draco," a familiar voice garnered his attention. "I'm sorry for your loss," Pansy Parkinson said, leaving her mother's side in order to speak to him. "Narcissa was a great woman. She will be missed."

"Thank you, Pansy," Draco said softly.

"I can't help but feel it was all my fault," Pansy felt to add. Narcissa had died while protecting Pansy and a group of fist years from the Death Eaters attacking the school.

"Don't do that, Pansy," Draco's voice sounded duller than it ever had before. "Don't blame yourself, for the fault does not lie with you. I'm to blame for my mother's death. That burden is on my shoulders alone." The words sounded stiff and formal, impersonal, but Draco believed every one of them.

"Dra-" Pansy started, but before she could finish the thought her mother joined them.

"Mr. Malfoy, you carry my sympathies for your loss, but Pansy and I really must get going. Your mother was a great woman and I owe her my daughter's life, but we do not have all day to mope about here. No offense intended of course."

"None taken," Draco replied monotonously. "I have no desire to remain here either. Thank you for coming." The Lady Parkinson gave a stiff nod before instructing Pansy to say her goodbyes so that they could get going.

Pansy nodded as her mother stepped away to allow them a few second's privacy. "Stay strong, Draco. Don't you go blaming yourself either."

Draco managed a half smile in Pansy's direction, before the two women departed. To himself he said, "You don't seen to get it, Pansy. My mother's death really is my fault."

Draco turned and glanced at his mother's gravestone with a solemn look upon his face. He had lost too many people in the recent months: first his godfather, then one of his closest friends, for all intents and purposes he had lost his father as well, and now he'd lost the last person that meant anything to him, the one person he would have given anything to keep alive: his mother. And her death was entirely his fault. He would never be able to forgive himself.

::-::

Hogwarts had sustained on minimal damage during the final battle: the Astronomy Tower had been destroyed as well as greenhouses one through four, but everything else was, for the most part, in one piece. Because of this the school was only to be closed for two weeks after the battle before classes resumed. Draco had spent the first part of this respite at the Manor with his father, but after the first week and a half he decided to return to school early.

He hadn't been the only student early to return to the school, some students had no home to return to or had no one left at their home for them. Last Draco had heard, there was at least fifteen Gryffindor students, seven Hufflepuffs, three Ravenclaws, and nine Slytherins currently within the castle. But he couldn't be positive because he was avoiding all of them.

He had only been back at the castle for one day, but he'd yet to leave his rooms for more than slipping down to the kitchens for a solitary meal. Draco had no desire to socialize with anyone, because with the war being so freshly over there was only one topic of conversation anymore. Draco didn't think he could stand hearing another person pity him and ask to be pitied in return for their loses in the war. He didn't want anyone to bring up his mother's name anymore. It was bad enough back at the manor where everywhere he looked he was surrounded by his mother's presence. That had been the place his mother had lived, worked, and fought. She had raised him it that house, had protected him when the darkness had descended upon it, and had guided him towards making his own decisions about life and about the war.

Everywhere he looked within the manor's walls, he could see his mother there. Everywhere he went, he could hear her voice. She blamed him for her death. He knew she did, because he blamed himself.

Not liking feeling such self-loathing, Draco had escaped to Hogwarts. But that wasn't much better, because it was at this school where his mother had breathed her last. Draco had sat in his room in the dungeons trying to tune out the sound of his mother's voice ringing though his head, but it had been a futile attempt and in a fury he had dashed from the room, out of the Slytherin dorms, up from the dungeons, and onto the Hogwarts grounds.

Eventually his mad dash had come to a stop when he reached the Black Lake. Walking along the edge of the water, Draco found a secluded spot beneath a tree to sit down. In his isolated spot by the Black Lake, all of Draco's cares seeded to cease in importance. There was no-one else about and Draco had no reason to worry over anything. Draco sat alone for what seemed like hours, staring out over the water, and watching the sky above it. The calm atmosphere lured him into a state of peaceable contentment. So at peace he was, he didn't notice the passage of time, nor the footsteps approaching him, until his peaceable silence was broken.

"Malfoy?" Someone called out to him.

Draco looked up into the warm brown eyes of his year-mate and fellow Slytherin Blaise Zabini. Draco didn't really know Zabini all that well, sure they were in the same year and house, but they ran with different circles. In fact, one could say Zabini didn't run with any circle; he was a bit of a loner who spent his time reading books. His family had been neutral in the war, and Draco had never had the opportunity to engage him in an actual conversation. He, like everyone else, had heard the rumors about Zabini being caught in a compromising situation with the Gryffindor boy Seamus Finnegan, but Draco hadn't really paid much attention to it. He and Blaise Zabini really didn't know each other at all.

"Zabini," Draco said in acknowledgment.

"You're in my spot," the half-Italian Slytherin said.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know," Draco said, debating with himself over whether he should just get up and leave. Had this conversation taken place just a few weeks prior Draco would have played the role or the pompous arse, but with things the way they were now, he didn't know what role to play anymore.

"No problem," Zabini said, inviting himself to take a seat next to Draco. "I doubt I could rightfully call this spot mine. I just like to come here on occasion. Whenever I can get away, or need to get away from everyone else. It's peaceful and has a great view of the sky." Zabini paused. "I love watching the sky; it's just so beautiful." He stared out over the water with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I've never taken the opportunity to admire the beauty of the sky before," Draco admitted softly, "but you're right. The sky holds a unique beauty; one that can lull you into a state of peace even at the most hectic times in your life."

"That's the magic of nature. A magic they can't teach us here." Zabini smiled at him, and Draco couldn't help but offer a small smile in turn.

They sat in silence for a while, before Zabini spoke again. "I want to say I'm sorry for you loss, but I know what it's like to lose someone important to you, and I know that's not something you want to hear again. I see no point in giving you a pep talk and saying you'll get over it soon, because I know for a fact getting over it is nearly impossible."

Draco didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Zabini didn't seem to mind, since he let the silence drag on comfortably. "I-" Draco paused and tried to start again, "I can't help but feel it's my fault."

"What?" Zabini asked. "That's stupid. Of course-"

"My mother wouldn't have died had it not been for me," Draco cut in. "I could have been the one to go after the group of students, but I didn't. I was right there, but I just stood by while my mother sacrifice herself. In fact, I could have avoided the situation all together. Mother was always telling to start making decisions for myself, especially about the war. If I had listened to her sooner, we wouldn't even have been here. There's so many things I could have done, that I didn't, and now my mother is dead."

"Hmph," Zabini huffed. "Is this pity party over yet?" he grumbled. "The survivors always blame themselves. All these 'should have, could have, would haves' don't mean a thing. Regrets are for those who don't know how to live in the moment, and what you _didn't _do back then holds no weight now. What matters is what you _did_ do. You _did_ eventually start thinking for yourself. You _did_ try to help her. You _did_ make one of the hardest choice a child has to make, which parent is right and which is wrong. You did all you could at the moment. You probably made her the most proud mother in existence, but she's dead now, Draco. And we both know there's nothing you could have done about it. Does sitting here wishing things had gone differently change what's already happened? No! So, when you're done blaming yourself, remember it wasn't your fault."


	2. How to Be

**UchiSays: **I'm really surprised by the lack of reviews on this story so far, but I guess I can't expect all my storing to get a truckload of reviews right off the back. Anyway, I'm going to continue posting this story every few days since there's only four chapters and I already have the entire thing written.

Hoping for Reviews Soon

~Itami

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**Lesson Two: How to Be **_(...And We are Both of Us Just...)_

The next day found Draco once again crossing the grounds of Hogwarts, this time deep in thought as he let his feet carry him wherever they pleased. The words that Blaise Zabini had said to him still lingered in his mind, capturing his thoughts, and taking over his head. _"When you're done blaming yourself, remember it wasn't your fault."_

It wasn't his fault... If the blame did not lie with Draco, then who's fault was it really? Draco couldn't stop blaming himself long enough to realize the answer to that question was no one. No one was to blame. His mother's death had been of her own free will.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Draco realized he was once more in the secluded spot by the lake he'd visited the previous day. Strolling over to the tree he had sat under, Draco reclaimed his seat. Seconds... minutes... hours passed, moments all blurred together and lost in the peace brought to him by watching the sky over the water. But soon the sound of footsteps broke through that peace.

"Tell me something, Blaise," Draco said without turning around, the other Slytherin didn't seemed fazed by the fact Draco had referred to him by his given name.

"What would you like to know, Draco," the black boy sat down under the tree and handed Draco a large slice of watermelon. Draco absently noted that Zabini had three more watermelon slices for himself.

Draco nodded his thanks. Staring down at the juicy red fruit he asked, "When a person dies, who suffers the most?"

Blaise took a moment to spit out a line of watermelon seeds before answering the question. "That's an obvious question," he said, then took another bite of his watermelon, finishing off the first slice. "Why don't you tell me what you think the answer is?"

"What makes you think I have an opinion when I'm asking yours?" Blaise didn't reply as he started on his second slice of watermelon.

Draco sighed and looked back out over the water of the lake. "I used to believe that it was the dead who suffered the most. Seeing how they had this whole life ahead of them, all these plans and goals they wanted to complete, adventures they wanted to have, memories they wanted to make, but then suddenly they're unable to do anything. Their whole life gets cut short, leaving all these things undone, and there's nothing they can do about it except lie restless in their graves suffering from being here one moment and gone the next."

Blaise sat down his half eaten watermelon slice and looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by. "You say you used to believe that," his red tongue snaked out a licked some of the watermelon juice from the corner of his mouth, "what do you believe now?"

Draco glanced down at the uneaten watermelon in his own hands and absently began picking the seeds out of it with long deft fingers. "Now I believe it's the ones that are left behind who suffer the most. For pretty much the same reasons the dead suffer, actually. They have this love one, this friend, spouse, sibling, mother... they have this person who is so special and important to them that is here one moment and gone the next. And they leave behind all these things undone, and the living feel compelled- as if it's their job- to carry the burden so that the dead can rest. And the dead does rest, as the ones they left behind go on carrying more burdens than they can bare, until the living finally reach the end of their line so they can rest. But they leave even more things undone, leaving the living to mourn, and place blame, and eventually carry the dead's burden with their own."

Blaise spat out another trial of watermelon seeds, and placed his now consumed second slice down with the first. "You over think things, Draco," he stated. "I told you the question had an obvious answer; it didn't require all the thought you put into the explanation."

"Really then?" Draco said. "What's the obvious answer I missed, then?"

Blaise took a moment to bite into his third slice of watermelon. "Did it ever occur to you that neither suffers, or that they both suffer the same?" He didn't wait for Draco's reply, "People suffer in life. No matter how good a life they have, they must go through a certain amount of suffering- if not for anything else, just to keep them humble. But life's suffering are mixed in with life's blessings. If you're lucky there's an abundance of the latter and very few of the former, but not everyone is lucky. Death isn't another form of suffering; it's the representation of the end of a long road of suffering and blessings. Have you ever heard the saying 'happiness is not a destination, it's the journey'? We go through life thinking we're searching for happiness, but we find happiness along the way and continue on searching for more. If happiness was the destination, it would all end when it is found, but in most cases it doesn't. It all ends in death, or whatever you believe comes after death, so doesn't that make death the destination? So if happiness is the journey and death is the destination, suffering is just part of the trip."

Draco thought about it. "That makes sense, but it doesn't answer my question."

Blaise let out an aggravated sigh. "What I'm trying to say is, death is the end of suffering, it's the long awaited rest, so the dead doesn't suffer at all. And the death of a love is just a speed-bump on the journey; it's no more suffering than any other time. We suffer while we're alive, whether we're left behind after a loved one has died or not."

"Is that what you came up with after you lost Finnegan?"

A look of agony flitted across Blaise's face, before he quickly hid it behind a Slytherin mask of indifference. "Yeah," he said in a forced sounding neutral tone, "that's what I came up with after Seamus died, but it doesn't make it any less true now does it?"

"No, it doesn't." Draco broke off a piece of his watermelon with his fingers and raised the mushy red fruit to his lips. Neatly, and with all the propriety befit a Malfoy, he placed the treat in his mouth so that none of the juice got on his face. Blaise watched this in silence, his own face sticky and covered in watermelon juice.

He took an angry bite of his watermelon. "You know what your problem is, Draco? You're too serious all the time. You don't allow yourself any reprieve, anytime to just enjoy being a kid. I get that being the heir to a noble pure-blood line is serious business, but that's no reason to act as if there's a stick permanently stuck up your arse."

"I do not act like there's a stick permanently stuck up my arse!" Draco argued.

"Oh, please," Blaise huffed. "If you were anymore serious, you would be made of stone. It's almost as if you're afraid to live a little; as if being a Malfoy has sucked the fun right out of you. You walk around with an expression colder than ice, instantly ending anyone's good time. You act as if you must be proper all the time; as if getting down and dirty would just kill you. You're unwilling to do anything that makes you look even the slightest bit indecent- the slightest bit _human_. Like now for instance, most people just bite right into watermelon, get their faces all sticky and dirty with the juice, and spit the seeds out casually. You on the other hand so meticulously picked the seeds out one by one, so that you don't humble yourself by spitting. Then you oh so carefully break off pieces and places them in your mouth so that the juice not mar your face and ruin you I-Better-Than-Thy expression. You take the fun right out of eating watermelon, like you take the fun right out of everything else. The only times you act even remotely human is when Potter is involved."

"I beg to differ, Zabini, your analysis of me is both unfounded and untrue."

"_I_ beg to differ, _Malfoy_, we both know it's true. And right now, you're retreating behind stoic formality as a way to deny it to yourself, but you can't help but see the truth in _every_thing I said."

Draco let out a rather undignified huff. "What do you care." he challenged.

"First off, I can't stand watching you suck the fun out of eating my favorite fruit. I usually don't share watermelon, and thanks to you I probably never will again. Are you really so afraid of getting your face dirty?"

"I'm not afraid," Draco replied.

"Really? Then prove it. Take a big bite of that watermelon and let the juice get on you."

Draco wanted to protest, but his pride wouldn't let him back down from such an obvious challenge. He stared down at the barely eaten fruit in his hands as if willing it to the disappear. Finally he raised the fruit to his lips and took a large bite out of it. The watermelon was sweet and juicy in his mouth. Though he never much liked the texture of the fruit, the flavor was something to enjoy. His pale cheeks were moist from the fruit, and the sun was drying them so fast he could already feel them growing sticky, still he turned to Blaise with what could only be called a triumphant grin on his face.

The half-Italian Slytherin grinned back. "See, that wasn't so bad was it? Now if I can get you to spit seeds, you'll almost pass for a normal person." He reached into the pocket of his Muggle jeans and handed Draco a handkerchief. "You got a little juice on your face," he teased.

Draco took the handkerchief, but didn't bother wiping his mouth. Instead, he took another large bite of the watermelon straight from the slice and spat a little black seed out towards the lake.

Blaise's grin grew. "Well, I'll be. He might be human after all."

"You know, if I lose my reputation as a serious, proper gentlemen, the fault will be yours alone." He gave Blaise what could pass for a small smile.

Blaise smile back boldly. "You know, I don't think I'd mind that at all. Now if you'd excuse me, I must be taking my leave. Places to be, people to see, and all that rot."

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, trying not to sound dejected at his new friend leaving so soon.

"Don't worry," Blaise grinned. "I'll see you tomorrow. You still have much to learn yet."

"And what is it for _you _to teach _me_, Zabini?" Draco inquired.

"How to be human," Blaise answered. "I may not seem the type, but I do know how to loosen up and live a little. You on the other hand, do not. I'm going to change that and make you human."

Draco didn't know what to say to that.

"You know it wouldn't hurt anyone if you dropped the facade once in a while. Who knows, you may like yourself better without the masks."

Draco could only watch on with a slightly confused expression as Blaise walked away.


	3. How to Love

**UchiSays: **Two Reviews Whoo! Still less than I expected, but its better than nothing. So I'm going to post this chapter now since I won't be near a computer again until Monday and I'll like to have chapter 4 posted by then so I don't have to worry about it over Turkey Day Break. So in ohter news... Harry appears in this chapter, but in turn we lose someone else. Only one chapter to go now and it's techincally the epilogue.

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**Lesson Three: How to Love **_(...Just A Little Afraid, But...)_

Draco found it strange how the little things Blaise Zabini said worked their way into his head and dominated his thoughts. From the first day they had an actual real conversation where Zabini told him to remember it wasn't his fault, to just the previous day when Blaise told him he may like himself better without the masks, Blaise Zabini had made a lasting impression on Draco.

Draco briefly wondered why it took so long for him to find a person of such intellect within his own house. The wondered what would have happened if he'd gotten to know Blaise sooner; had they have been friends from the start would Draco have avoided some of the stupider mistakes he'd made? It occurred to him that Blaise spoke with a knowledge not found in most people their age, as if even though the two of them had lived through the same war Blaise had garnered experience and wisdom befit an adult while Draco retained the wisdom of a child.

As Draco had lay awake in his bed the previous night, trying to avoid the ghosts that haunted his dreams, his thoughts chased around the enigma that is Blaise Zabini. He recalled their previous conversations with penseive like accuracy and dissected every word spoken and ever expression shown by the half-Italian black boy. He noticed for the first time that Blaise had mentioned Potter in their last conversation, and he'd spoken as if he knew more knowledge than he should about the Malfoy/Potter relationship- more knowledge than even Draco himself was privy to. Draco wondered what made Potter's name even come up in the conversation; it was spoken casually once and never mentioned again. Yet Draco felt Zabini had mentioned the Gryffindor on purpose, as if he knew Draco was going to lie awake dissecting the conversation and he _wanted_ Draco to think about Potter. Of course Draco wasn't going to award him that courtesy and quickly pushed the Gryffindor from his mind in favor of continuing analyzing the Zabini Conundrum.

By the time Draco fell asleep, he wasn't any closer to figuring Zabini out, but his mind was much too exhausted to dream so it was worth in the end.

It was now the Sunday before school was to resume and the castle was steadily filling up with it's returning residents. Draco strode out of the castle and across the grounds until he reached the secluded tree where he usually met Zabini. Expecting to be the first to arrive like the previous two days, Draco was surprised to find someone already sitting under the tree. That someone was not Blaise Zabini.

"Malfoy," Potter greeted Draco solemnly.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Draco asked, standing a few feet from the tree and sending a halfhearted glare at the Gryffindor; with the war over and all its losses counted, Draco just couldn't find it within himself to put actual malice into his old rivalry.

"Blaise sent me," Potter said, his green eyes fell on Draco without actually looking at him. It seemed as if Potter was looking through Draco, or pass him and at something only the brunet could see. It was actually kind of unnerving to Draco to have those Avada Kedavra eyes looking at him without seeing him.

"Why? Zabini said he would be meeting me here, why would he suddenly change his mind and send you instead?" Try as he might, Draco just couldn't get Blaise Zabini figured out. What was it that prompted the black boy to act the way he did?

"Malfoy, Blaise died last night."

Draco froze; he hadn't been expecting that. "How? What happened?" Why was he feeling so concerned about a boy he barely knew.

Potter sighed and leaned back against the tree he sat under; Blaise's tree- the Italian had claimed it as such. "I don't know how well you knew Blaise, but he died the way he always wanted to. He had gotten hit with a pretty bad curse during the final battle and never quite recovered from it. When he, me, and another friend of ours Dean Thomas went into Diagon Alley yesterday to pick up a few things, we bumped into some Death Eaters that had managed to evade capture. Blaise stood between Dean and a nasty curse. By time we got him back here, Madame Pomfrey said there was nothing she could do for him except dose him up with some pain relief potions to make his last half hour peaceful."

"He purposely put himself in the path of a Death Eater's curse for Thomas?" Draco asked rather dumbly; that didn't seem like a Slytherin thing to do. In fact that seemed very Gryffindorish to Draco. There was no such thing as a self-sacrificing Slytherin... or was there; I mean take a look at Draco's mother, hadn't she done the same thing?

"You must understand the kind of relationship Blaise and Dean had," Potter said, cutting into Draco's thoughts. "They considered themselves brethren in the fact that they had both loved and lost the same person. Blaise lost a lot during the war: his mother, his uncle, his step-father, and Seamus. He didn't want to lose Dean as well, especially since he and Dean needed each other for support."

Draco could accept that. Everyone needed a pillar to lean on sometime; why would Blaise be an exception. Besides, why should Draco care why the other Slytherin acted the way he did? Zabini wasn't Draco's to mourn, they had barely known each other to begin with, and Draco was still mourning his mother so he couldn't bare to mourn another.

"Anyway, Blaise told me he'd been meeting you out here. He told me he'd been talking to you for the past two days. He was upset that he wouldn't be able to make it here for day three, so he sent me instead."

"Why would he do something like that? I'm sure even he knows the two of us can't be within a foot of each other without hexes flying."

"Malfoy, you'd be surprised by all the things Blaise knows. Come have a seat so we can talk."

Draco debated with himself for a while, before finally conceding and taking a seat next to Potter.

Potter didn't say anything for a while as he stared out over the water of the Black Lake. Just when Draco was starting to get impatient, Potter began to speak. "There's a Muggle children's book called _The Giving Tree_, it's about a friendship between a little boy and a tree. When the boy was small, he would visit the tree everyday and swing from her branches and nap in her shade; the tree looked forward to these visits because they made her feel loved. But as the boy grew, he began visiting the tree less and less, until he stopped all together and the tree felt lonely. One day the boy came back and the tree grew happy, she asked the boy to swing from her branches and nap in her shade like he used to, but the boy said he was too big for such things now. So the tree asked the boy what could she do for him. The tree was so desperate to have the boy back she was willing to do anything. But there always seemed to be years between the boy's visits, and every time he came back he wanted something else from her. And she gave it to him: her leaves to hide in, her apples to sale, her branches to make a home with, her trunk to build a boat; until she was left with nothing but a stump. And every time she gave him another part of her the tree grew happy, because her boy was back and needed her and loved her; but he always left again and she grew lonely. Then one day the boy came back as an old man and the tree said she had nothing left to give him. The boy said all he needed was a place to sit and rest his tired old bones, so the tree offer him her stump to sit on. The boy sat, and the tree grew happy because she had her friend back."

Draco listened to all of this silently, wondering where Potter was going with it. But it seemed Potter was done speaking, and Draco grew irritated. "Touching story and all, Potter, but was there a point to it?"

Potter turned and looked at Draco, his eyes shining with breathtaking intensity. "We are sitting under a Giving Tree, Draco. Only the tree is not the one doing the giving, not exactly that is. Blaise told me he found this tree first year when he was newly Sorted into Slytherin and already sure he wouldn't fit in. He had wanted a place where he could go and be himself without fear of his house-mate's response. This tree offered him shelter and solitude from everything within Hogwarts' walls. This is where he went to just _be_. Under the shelter of this tree, Blaise found a security he'd always needed and he spent time here just _thinking_, he said. Occasionally someone else would stumble upon this tree, and the ones that did were always searching for _something_. Blaise would talk to them, and he realized that for the most part everyone who discovered this tree were searching for the same things. So for three days, Blaise would meet a person here and talk to them, guide them on the path to what they were searching for. Three days, because no one ever returned for a fourth, three was enough. Each day he taught a new lesson-"

"About how to be human?" Draco cut it, remembering what Blaise had said to him the previous day.

At that point, Harry had returned to looking out over the water, but he peered at Draco from the corner of his eye and gave a small nod. "Something of that sort. Each lesson taught two intertwining concepts. Lesson one was always about guilt. Everyone who came here felt guilty about something and their first day here Blaise will nudge them down the path of knowing that the past can't be changed and where to place blame."

"When you're done blaming yourself, remember it's not your fault," Draco said softly, but Potter still heard him and gave another nod.

"He used different methods for different people, but it all pretty much meant the same thing. For you he used that saying since he knew you would need something with obvious meaning, but stated in a way that would make you think. For me he said 'you dishonor your loved one's sacrifices by being a stupid Gryffindor playing the blame game'. Kind of a smack in the face really, but I got his meaning. I personally think the second day is his favorite, because got to insult you and still teach how find your true self and not be afraid to _be_ your true self."

"He told me I walk around as if there's a permanent stick up my arse sucking the fun out of everything," Draco said. "He also said I might like myself better without the masks."

"He went easy on you," Potter got a faraway look on his face and grinned as if lost in memory. "He called me an obsequious prat and said once I'm done being who everyone else wants me to be, I might as well curl up and die since there's no way I'll be able to live as myself, because I don't know myself."

"Kind of harsh," Draco sympathized.

"But it was exactly what I needed to hear. Now the third lesson is the hardest, because it's much more personal than the rest. Lesson three is how to love yourself and how to let others love you. This was exceedingly difficult for me because I was raised with a very low opinion of myself and didn't think I was worthy of love. Blaise said that this lesson would be hard for you as well, because you need to learn the same thing as me. Apparently we're both the type that searches for approval from others and base how we feel about ourselves on whether or not we receive that approval. Love for us has always been conditional- only given if certain standards were met- and the love we need is of the unconditional variety. He also told me that as long as I didn't love myself, I'd always be too blind to see the people out there who already unconditionally loved me, but then he said that I'll never find what there is to love within myself if I didn't know what it was other people already loved about me. Needless to say, I was confused."

Draco could understand being confused at that statement, because it was too confusing to even be considered an oxymoron. Not being able see that others loved you without loving yourself first, but not being able to love yourself without knowing what others loved about you? Could he had stated that in a more confusing manner?

"It took some thinking, but I eventually got it, especially when he said that love is the force that ties both friends and enemies to us. And that love is the topic of every compliment and insult."

That made less sense than the original oxymoron used. He could understand how love tied friends to you and was the topic of every compliment. But enemies and insults came from the opposite emotion. For example, there was no love between Draco and Potter, yet they were enemies. Draco often insulted Harry's glasses, his hair, his scar, his scruffy appearance, and his Gryffindor qualities. Harry's glasses were big and ugly and distracted from the lovely color of Harry's eyes. His hair was a messy bird's nest, that made Draco just want to run his fingers through it in an attempt to tame the mess and better accent Harry's defined facial features. That bloody scar was an ugly reminder to a past better forgotten and marred Harry's otherwise unblemished face. Harry's clothes were barely a step above rags and made Harry look like a lowborn street rat and they were in no way flattering to his Quidditch toned physique. And Harry's Gryffindor foolhardiness and unfaltering loyalty could one day get Harry killed, and if Harry died who else would Draco have to- compliment in attempts to justify his insults.

Potter grinned knowingly at Draco. "Finally caught on I see."

"I never even realized I thought half of those things about you," Draco groaned.

"Trust me, I was pretty shocked when I realized why I insulted you, but what Blaise had said made sense then. I spent the next half hour staring in the mirror, reviewing every insult you ever shot at me in order to find out what you were really trying to say. I actually discovered more than I bargained for with this exercise."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that while there's a lot about myself for me to love, there's more about you that I love." Draco wasn't sure he'd heard that right. Did Potter just, in some roundabout way, admit to loving him. "There's a reason Blaise sent me to meet you and not someone else," Harry said. "I've loved you for a long time, but never had the courage to just outright admit it. And you don't love yourself, so you can't see how I inadvertently go about showing my feelings to you. Since you don't thinks there's much to love about you, you can't tell that I already do love you."

Draco could only listen numbly at the things Potter said while his mind ran around in circles trying the comprehend the very simple words. Harry Potter loved him.

"Blaise said it literally took a smack in the face from the Irishmen to make him realized he was in love with Seamus. It took me nearly seeing you die by my own wand for me to realize that I wanted you by my side for eternity as more than an annoyance and a rival. It took nearly killing you to make me realize I love you, but I hope just hearing me say it will be enough to make you realize you feel something for me in return."

Draco didn't know what to say in response, so he just stood up and walked away.


	4. How to Go On

**Epilogue, The Fourth Lesson: How to Go On **_(...But I'm Willing to Try.)_

They buried Blaise at mid-day. Draco didn't know if that had any special meaning, or if that was just how it ended up being. Draco didn't know why so many people had shown up for Blaise's funeral nor why they had been told to wear bright colors. Draco didn't know if there was special meaning to the Muggle song that had been played during the viewing of the body (Linkin' Park's Leave Out All the Rest). Draco didn't know why there was a smile on the face of Blaise's corpse. Draco didn't know why Blaise was being buried in the middle of a forest. Draco, reluctantly, realized that he didn't know Blaise.

Six years they had gone to school together. Six years they had shared a dorm, a common room, classes, meals, living space. Six years spent not knowing anything about Blaise other than his name, his House, and the fact that he didn't quite fit. Yet it had only taken two days- it should have been three- for Blaise to make in impact on his life. It had only taken two days- it should have been three- for Draco to feel he'd earned his right to be at Blaise's funeral. It had only taken two days- it should have been three... no it should have been six years. It would have been six years if Draco had just put forth the effort to get to know the boy. But Draco didn't dwell on it.

Lesson one had been that you can't change the past so don't blame yourself.

People were staring at Draco. Some with curiosity, some openly malicious, all wondering why he was there. They knew that he hadn't know Blaise. They felt he didn't belong there. I bet they were waiting for him to do something to dishonor Blaise's passing. Maybe that's what he would have done back when he'd seen Blaise as something barely above the status of Blood Traitor; back when he was the son his father wanted him to be. Back when he himself didn't know who Draco Malfoy truly was. But he wasn't that person anymore. Silently he listened to the sermon given by some unfamiliar face, he viewed the body, sent up a prayer for Blaise's crossing, and whispered condolences to Dean Thomas. He ignored the whispers about his presence and didn't act the way the expected him to.

Lesson two had been how to find yourself and how to be yourself.

After the funeral service, Draco returned to Hogwarts. He and all the others who attended the funeral had been given the day off from classes and Draco just knew Blaise's tree would be getting a lot of traffic that evening from people who had met the Slytherin there for three days and had their lives' changed. People who had met him for three days, but never returned for a fourth day until now when it was too late. Draco watched from a distance as all the comers and goers paid their respects. He remained there in his secluded spot watching until long after night fall, until finally the person he'd been waiting for arrived.

Lesson three had been how to love yourself and let other's love you.

It was time for Draco to complete his third lesson.

Harry didn't seemed surprise by Draco's sudden presence with him under the tree. He just peered up at him with those Avada Kedavra green eyes, before nodding his understanding and allowing Draco to sit next to him. They just sat there for a while, neither of them spoke a word and who made the first move was not important. What was important was the warmth spreading through Draco when Harry's lips met his own. What was important was the knowledge that this boy loved him and that Draco was willing to accept that now.

Their gentle kisses led to roaming hands and clothes being removed. They fitted perfectly together as they laid on the ground and explored each other's flesh. Pleasure built within them as they held on to each other and made love under Blaise's tree... a giving tree... the tree that had taught him to be human. As Draco and Harry became one and reached towards oblivion together, Draco realized the lesson that Blaise would have taught if anyone chose to return for the fourth day. And as he and Harry laid together in the aftermath of their release, Draco couldn't have been happier.

_Because I love you, and we are both of us just a little afraid, but I'm willing to try._

**Class Dismissed.**


End file.
